


Hold On To Me As We Go

by ObsidiansChild



Series: The Reformation of Eliot Waugh [9]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24644083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidiansChild/pseuds/ObsidiansChild
Summary: Quentin buys Eliot an anniversary gift, with an added surprise.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: The Reformation of Eliot Waugh [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719526
Comments: 10
Kudos: 92





	Hold On To Me As We Go

**Author's Note:**

> Good morning! I've been waiting to post this installment for a while! 
> 
> This takes place seven months after the last installment, and is on Quentin and Eliot's third anniversary. Hope you enjoy!

_ Quentin and Eliot’s third year anniversary _

_ Quentin _

Quentin blinked at the display on his cell phone as he slouched on the sofa that afternoon. It  _ was  _ afternoon in Brooklyn, and he needed to adjust. He’d stepped out of a portal from Bali a little over an hour ago, where it had been very early morning through the hospital’s windows.  _ Tomorrow  _ morning. The surgery he’d traveled there to assist with had taken nearly twelve hours and his hands were killing him. Fingers were the hardest for him to attach, and he’d done three today. 

“Where is your dad?” Quentin murmured to Prudence, who had her front paws resting primly on his leg, letting him know in her feline way that she was only there for lack of someone better. Eliot was the only person she fully lounged on. Quentin only ever got the front paws, or sometimes a walk over as she moved on to more interesting things. 

Quentin knew Thursdays were typically Eliot’s short day at work. He didn’t quite understand why, but knew it had something to do with meetings and arguments regarding designs and specifications, both of which had to be constantly revised. Wicke supposedly didn’t enjoy the “aura” of the office after those meetings, and usually excused everyone for the day afterwards. But it was nearly two o’clock, and there wasn’t a lot of daylight left this time of year for what he had planned.

Another fifteen minutes passed before Eliot finally did step through the portal, looking annoyed before he set eyes on Quentin. “Hey, you’re back,” he greeted him with a smile, bending over to pick up Prudence, who was already at his feet. “I thought I wouldn’t see you until tonight.”

“I didn’t want to stay once I was done,” Quentin explained, sitting up from the back of the sofa and lighting a cigarette. He was down to a pack a week, but he was feeling anxious today and had smoked far more than normal.

“How was Bali?” Eliot asked as he took the empty seat next to him, still holding the cat and leaning forward for a kiss. Quentin moved his cigarette aside to give him one. 

“Oh, I didn’t leave the hospital. So, um, dark?”

Eliot rolled his eyes. “I love you.”

“Same. How was your day, though?”

Eliot’s hazel eyes rolled again, much more dramatically this time. “I was pretty sure at one point I was going to force choke the design lead, but we worked it out.”

Quentin smirked. “Meaning you got your way?”

Eliot tilted his head a bit. “I mean, I  _ am  _ leading specs this time, so yes.”

“You’re spoiled,” he laughed and Eliot didn’t deny it. He knew Wicke loved him. 

“Perhaps. Hey, do you want Kleinberg’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

“Oh, um. That sounds fine, but I kind of had something I wanted to do first. Unless you can’t wait,” he added hurriedly. Quentin hoped that wasn’t the case; he wasn’t sure he could sit on this another day. 

Eliot’s gaze swept over his face. “Well, it looks like you might start vibrating if I tell you I can’t, so let’s hear it.”

Quentin took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling smoke away from Eliot’s face. “So, I kind of want to give you your anniversary present today.”

Eliot immediately gave him a warm but disapproving look. “Q, we agreed to wait until this weekend.”

“I know, but I don’t really think my present is going to fit with all the plans you’re being so secretive about. And I also need to know if you hate it.”

“I’m not going to hate a gift from you,” Eliot laughed, and Quentin knew his face had done something when his boyfriend’s expression turned concerned. “Okay, talk to me before you have a panic attack.”

Quentin nodded, crushing his cigarette out in the ashtray. “So, um, you know how you’ve been worried we’re going to have to move pretty far out to find any land to build on?”

“Yeah, but I’m… resigning myself to the idea.”

“Well… I was on my way to a consultation a few months ago, and I saw this house, not far from here. A-And it’s not the style you wanted, but I looked up the auction listing, and it  _ is  _ a hundred years old. Barely, but still. And it’s kind of falling apart, but I like the area a lot, and I could just… I loved it.”

Eliot’s brow furrowed. “So, do you want to look at it or something?”

Quentin winced. “I kind of already did?” He took a deep breath. “El, I bought it.”

Eliot’s face went blank before his eyes widened. “Quentin. You bought a  _ house?” _

“Yeah.”

Eliot blinked several times, staring past him. “You  _ bought  _ a house.” He sounded as if he were talking to himself at this point.

“Uh-huh.”

Eliot let out a short breath, appearing dazed as his eyes returned to meet his. “How much is the mortgage? You haven’t said anything.”

“It was an auction, I had to buy it outright.”

Eliot’s eyes bulged. “W-Wait, you just  _ paid  _ for it?”

Quentin nodded. “I mean, I’ve been working a lot.”

Eliot’s mouth was hanging open now. “Jesus Christ. Um, I need a drink,” he mumbled after a moment, patting Quentin’s knee distractedly before he stood to walk into the kitchen.

Quentin wet his lips anxiously as he watched Eliot pour a generous amount of whiskey into a glass. “Are you mad?”

He honestly couldn’t read the man’s expression as he brought the glass to his lips, which was unnerving after knowing him so long, but after a long drink, Eliot sighed, a hint of a smile on his lips. “No, baby. I’m just… a whole house? Q, it could be worthless.”

“No, I had it appraised. Structurally, it’s pretty sound.” He didn’t mention that was really the only positive aspect the place had going for it, other than the price he’d paid. “And it’s right next to Prospect Park.”

Eliot’s eyes flared. “We can’t afford something like that.”

“I said it was in bad shape, right? It’s a foreclosure, no one’s lived there in years. I, um, I wanted to see if you’d go look at it with me, before it gets too dark. The electric’s not on.”

Eliot finished half his glass before he gave a quick, nervous nod. “Um. Okay? We can do that.”

The Uber arrived less than half an hour later, and the only indication Quentin had that Eliot wasn’t angry with him was that he didn’t refuse his hand when Quentin reached for it, allowing him to hold it during the short drive. 

When the car slowed to a stop, his boyfriend leaned over him slightly to look at the house through the window, his eyes moving over the boarded windows and the broken railings of the porch. Quentin could only hope that Eliot wasn’t allowing the current state of the house to take away from the potential he could so clearly see in it. 

“Um, would you mind waiting?” he asked the driver. “I’ll tip in cash.”

The woman shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

“Thanks.” Quentin stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk with Eliot behind him, feeling for the keys in the pocket of his coat. He’d just picked them up three days ago, and they’d been weighing heavily in his pocket every time he’d worn his coat to leave the apartment. “So, um, first impressions?” he asked, turning to look up at the taller man.

“Uh… it’s big?” Eliot tried. 

Quentin sighed. “Look, I know it’s not in the best shape, but you really don’t see it?” He pointed up to the third floor. “Like that window? I love that.”

“Palladian,” Eliot offered before pointing to the boarded windows near the front door. “And that’s probably a bay; hard to tell.”

“I knew that one, actually. C’mon.”

Quentin unlocked the door, which stuck a little but he managed to push it open, stepping into the dim foyer that led to the stairs. “The living room’s just there,” he told Eliot, pointing to their left. 

“Christ, these floors are original,” Eliot murmured, stepping ahead to enter the living room. Quentin watched him look back into the parlor that led through towards the rear stairs and the kitchen. “Q, this place is fucking gigantic.”

“Yeah, but I figured we could both use an office space, and you know, maybe it wouldn’t just be the two of us after a while?”

But Eliot was still walking, looking over the damaged plaster, the exposed wiring, and the second set of bay windows located on the side of the house. Quentin hoped his boyfriend’s silence didn’t mean he was going to have to turn around and sell the place again when the ink still hadn’t dried on the papers. And if Eliot was really unhappy with this, his other plan couldn’t go forward, either. 

Trying to swallow down his fear, he followed Eliot past the rear stairs and through the kitchen, which led to the dining room, where Eliot finally stopped. “Fuck,” he breathed, his large eyes glancing up towards the exposed beams of the ceiling, over the small stained glass window and the built in cabinets with their leaded glass doors. 

“This is my favorite room on this floor,” Quentin told him, relieved when Eliot finally smiled at him, seemingly in agreement. 

They reached the main staircase after that, and he watched Eliot’s long fingers trail over the detailed carving in the newel post before he made his way up to the second floor hall. He stopped for a moment, but then took off towards the right. “Is that a…”

“Balcony? Yeah, but I probably wouldn’t go out there,” Quentin told him. “There’s another door to it from the bedroom right there. I figured that would be our room.”  _ If you don’t hate every single part of this,  _ he didn’t add. 

Eliot nodded, turning to look down the hall at the many doors before fixing Quentin with a pointed stare. “How many bedrooms?”

“Um, eight?” Off Eliot’s shocked expression, he rushed to add, “But two of them are, like,  _ really  _ small. Almost closets.”

“Oh, my God,” Eliot breathed. “Quentin, how much did you  _ pay  _ for this?”

He frowned. “Don’t ask me that.”

Eliot gave him a scolding look, but shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not like I don’t have a general idea, anyway. I didn’t even know you’d  _ made  _ that much yet.”

“I’ve been taking on a lot of cases. And I got it way under value.”

“Mm-hm. Could you even afford ramen right now, after signing the check?”

Quentin decided not to answer that, opening the door to the master bedroom. 

After that, however, he didn’t feel quite so nervous. It was clear Eliot appreciated the layout of the second and third floors, making comments on the amount of natural light and complimenting the crown moulding and solid doors before they made their way back downstairs.

“So, there’s a basement, too. But I think we should probably skip that until we have some actual lighting. I can show you the backyard, though.” Eliot nodded, allowing Quentin to lead him out through the kitchen and onto the broken flagstones of the driveway. 

“Well, this will be a project,” Eliot mused, looking over the uneven terrain. 

Hearing that sent a little thrill through Quentin, who took him by the hand. “But the yard is alright,” he told him, gesturing at the modest patch of green on the other side of the lot, bordered by a neat row of fir trees. “And it’s not like either of us has a car; we could take all of this up and have more grass.”

“True, but I like the patio. There’s potential.”

“Yeah? I mean, you don’t hate it?”

Eliot smiled tenderly down at him, turning a little to take his other hand, too. “Of course I don’t hate it. It’s amazing. I’m just… overwhelmed. You bought a  _ house,  _ Q.” 

“You’re not mad you won’t get to build us one?”

He shook his head, turning it a little to look up at the house. “I mean, pre-war was never really my thing, but I think I’m a little bit in love.” He looked back to Quentin. “Or a lot. You’ve outdone yourself, really. Now, kiss me.”

He started to pull him forward, eyes eager, but Quentin held himself away. “I, uh. I’m not actually done.”

Eliot smiled, giving him an incredulous look. “Q, if there is a car in that busted garage, I  _ will  _ be mad at you.”

“N-No,” he laughed, suddenly feeling like he might throw up. “I promise. I just needed to make sure you liked the house before I did this part.”

“I like the house,” Eliot promised, his smile nearly making Quentin melt into the crumbling patio. He could feel himself shaking, and prayed the tremors weren’t traveling through his hands and into those of his boyfriend.

“Okay, good. So, uh. I know you like creativity and big ideas, but… that’s just kind of not me.”

Eliot chuckled. “I’m aware of that.”

“I… I saw this place and I fell in love with it. I think this could be it, you know? And I know it’s definitely not home yet, but I know you can make it one.” Eliot’s smile turned bashful, but he kept his gaze fixed on Quentin, soft and curious. “I want our first memory here to be a good one.” He breathed out a shaky laugh. “At least, I’m hoping it will be.”

Keeping his hands in Eliot’s, Quentin awkwardly dropped down on his knee, careful to avoid any of the more pointed fragments of the broken flagstones. 

He watched Eliot’s brow wrinkle in confusion before his face went slack. “Holy shit,” he breathed unevenly, his eyes widening as his eyebrows climbed up his face.

Seeing how pale the man was turning, Quentin squeezed his hand. “El, you with me?” Eliot nodded immediately, barely perceptible, as his chin began to tremble. “Um. I love you, and I want to stay here with you. Permanently. So, do you wanna marry me?”

“Uh, yes?” Eliot’s voice was just above a whisper. “Yes.” Stronger this time. “Fuck, Quentin, get  _ up _ here.”

Quentin stood and Eliot pulled him in by the back of his neck, kissing him deeply. Quentin embraced him tightly, both relieved and overjoyed. He hadn’t exactly expected he would be turned down, but his anxiety had told him anything was possible since he’d first had the idea. 

When it became a concern that Eliot might actually start trying to undress him in the backyard, his large hands roaming under Quentin’s shirt and down the back of his pants, he pulled away with a laugh to find Eliot beaming down at him, tears in his eyes. “The Uber,” he reminded him.

Realization filled his eyes, followed by something else Quentin couldn’t quite identify. “Right. Um, yeah, we should head home.” His eyes sparkled. “Fiance.”

Quentin grinned.

On the way back to the apartment, Quentin ordered food to be delivered and fed Prudence when they arrived. Deciding a pitcher of tea would be good with their burgers, he was waiting on the water to boil when Eliot returned from changing his clothes in the bedroom, and unceremoniously placed two jeweler’s boxes on the counter near him.

He wore an expression of mild amusement as Quentin gaped at him. “I… You…?”

Eliot nodded. “You beat me by forty-eight hours, Coldwater.”

“I… Shit, should I apologize?”

Eliot smirked. “Don’t you dare.”

Quentin smiled. “I mean, I guess this explains why you didn’t demand to know why I didn’t have a ring…”

“I assumed you’d want to leave that to me. I’ll have to call Julia and let her know plans have changed.”

“Julia?”

Eliot nodded. “I had this elaborate story crafted to get you to Brakebills; she was going to build a portal near the river, where I was  _ going  _ to propose.”

“I’m kind of sad now I missed that,” he admitted as the kettle began to whistle and he pulled it from the burner, filling the pitcher. 

“Oh, that was just the beginning. The portal was going to go to Chard, near that little pub we went to on your birthday that time?” Quentin nodded, remembering his first birthday with Eliot vividly. “And I also booked us a room down the road at this picturesque little bed and breakfast. It was all very romantic.”

“Well… we can still go, right?”

Eliot nodded, eyes warm. “If you want.”

“I do. Just… can I see the rings?”

“Oh. Yeah. I had to go a little out of my comfort zone for something I thought you’d wear, but I think I did alright.” He slid one of the boxes across the counter.

Quentin’s eyes widened when he opened the velvet box to see a piece of jewelry unlike any he’d seen before. The band was dark, silver and black swirling in a pattern that reminded him of wood grain. The middle was inlaid with small amethyst stones all the way around. “Jesus, El.”

“In a good way?” he asked hopefully.

Quentin rushed to nod his head. “Yeah, I love it. Is yours like this?”

Eliot popped open the other box, sliding it next to the first. It was the same, though the stones were blue. “Sapphires,” he explained. “It was a custom order from a jeweler Margo referred me to. They’re talismanic stones. I mean, it’s more symbolic than anything, but I liked the idea.”

Quentin smiled softly. “Me, too. Can I try it on?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Eliot said pleasantly, snatching the boxes away from him. “Not until our wedding. Which I will be planning, and you will not put the rug out from under me this time.”

He snickered. “Promise. But I want to show Julia my ring.”

“She’s seen it,” Eliot assured him. 

“Joey?”

Eliot rolled his eyes. “Well, I didn’t tell him, no. He wouldn’t have kept his mouth shut.” Quentin really couldn’t argue that, but he pouted anyway. “Okay, one picture.  _ In the box,  _ not on your finger.”

Quentin scowled but pulled his phone from his pocket, snapping a photo once Eliot presented the ring to him in the box, which he very noticeably kept in his hand. Sending the photo to Joey’s number, he rested the phone on the counter before sinking the tea bags into the hot water. 

His phone began chirping once he was done, and Quentin smirked as he saw the video call request on the screen, accepting it. 

Joey’s face appeared on the screen and as soon as he saw Quentin’s, he started singing a horrible rendition of “Another One Bites the Dust.” Quentin faintly heard Eliot’s muttered disapproval before he chuckled, coming to stand behind him. 

“Will you stop?” Quentin called over the singing, which also included Joey trying to mimic the bassline.

Joey laughed, flipping his hair back. “You love it, though. Congrats, man. You too, El. I see your chin in there somewhere.”

“Jesus,” Eliot sighed, but lowered himself towards Quentin’s shoulder. “Hello, Joey. I see you’re not in your apartment. Again.”

Joey glared at him through a smile. It was a game of Eliot and Quentin’s, trying to figure out what the fuck Alice did for a living now. They knew she couldn’t talk about it, and that Joey also couldn’t talk about it, but he was often not in their Deer Park apartment when he called. Their only other clue was that Alice had seemed really passionate about climate change the last time they’d seen her. Beyond that, they knew nothing. “Well, I’ll be back next week, and I fully expect you to hit me up.”

“Will Alice be with you?” Quentin asked.

“No, but I’ve got an audition, so I’m making the trip back myself.”

“Oh, for what?” 

Joey waved a hand. “It’s a super small theater, Q. But it’s a musical part, so anything to get my name out there. I’ve never even heard of the play, but I’ll let you know if I get it.”

“Okay, that’s fair. Let me know when you’re back?”

“I will,” Joey promised. 

_ “If _ they let you out of Area 51,” Eliot teased.

Joey rolled his eyes before he ended the call.

Their food arrived soon after that, and Quentin finished the tea before they moved to eat dinner on the sofa, starting an art documentary series Eliot had shown interest in, even though he spent most of the first episode fielding texts from Margo once he’d confessed to her that Quentin had beat him to popping the question. Quentin missed most of it too, texting Julia, who could not believe he’d ruined Eliot’s plans and also couldn’t stop laughing about it.

The credits were rolling when Eliot sighed happily, leaning against his shoulder and taking his hand. They were a few minutes into the second episode when Quentin felt that hand sliding up his thigh, and he gave Eliot a knowing look. “I thought you wanted to watch this?”

“I can later; it’s not going anywhere,” he said, a seductive glint in his eye.

“Neither am I,” Quentin reminded him. 

“I  _ know.”  _ He looked delighted over that before leaning forward to kiss him.

Quentin allowed it to get as far as Eliot removing his sweater, but when he realized he was being pushed back onto the cushions of the sofa, he put his hand to the other man’s chest. “I told you. Not on this couch.  _ Ever  _ again.”

Eliot made a little whining noise, pouting. Quentin bit his lip gently in response and rolled off the sofa to walk towards the bedroom, nearly tripping over Prudence in the dark. “Keep your cat out of the bedroom if you want to get laid, too; she’s a creeper,” he called behind him. Eliot laughed as he turned off the TV. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Tada! So, this may have seemed cheesy, but I actually pulled this idea from my own life. My best friend and her girlfriend both had me involved in planning their proposals to one another, and it was so hard to keep my mouth shut when I knew one was going to beat the other to it. They also bought each other almost identical rings; it was hysterical.


End file.
